Whispering in the Bloc
by SakuraHawke
Summary: You are a relatively young German named none other than Germany. Your avocation at this moment is to rest in your cell on your side of Berlin. People come and go, but the sounds they make always linger. ((Warning: character death))


_Whispering in the Bloc_

* * *

_..._

You sit on your bunk in your cramped cell, always separated. Head pressed into your hands, you stress and think and try not to want to find some impossible way to off yourself. Though not completely out of the realm of imagination, you were too proud for that. There was a part of you that was as august as you ever were.

A light of bright yellow flashes behind your eyelids and you flinch. You hate that. So much.

That's why you move to the bars of your cell. You rest your hot forehead against them, sighing into their cool haven. A guard passes and gives you a smile. You smile back, but it probably doesn't work. You had gotten into a fight this morning and now are excessively bruised and even cut up a little.

"Hey, Lutz. How's life treating you?" The guard starts your conversation with a grin.

Your brother, with his bursting with life eyes, is always a pleasant sight in this Bloc. He makes it seem like there is some kind of hope for you yet.

"Horrible," You answer ruthfully. "How's the boss been these days?"

Your brother pauses a moment before answering, "Same as always."

"That's good, I guess," You try to say, but then he leaves with some excuse of having to continue his patrol.

You are left alone once more. You shiver as a breeze through your extremely narrow window blows through. Berlin is surprisingly cold this time of year, must have something to do with the Wall blocking all the warmth from Western half of the city. How cruel.

"Germany!" A nervous voice whispers along with the wind. You walk over steadily to your window.

"_Guten tag_, Herrin Hungary," You answer lazily.

"Hello to you too, Sir," Her face suddenly fills the window, her hair falls down around her and presumably onto the ground. She seems to be trying to decide to either crouch or lie down, but vetoes both to do something else in between. Not that you can really tell either way, you're inside your cell. "Have you seen Prussia lately?" She asks conversational like.

"Yes, he just passed by actually."

"Oh, darn. I wanted to talk to him," She purses her lips, but relaxes them to smile at you. "Well, oh well. I still have you to talk to..." She stops when she really starts to look at you. "Oh, baby boy. What have they done to you now?" She asks in a horror-mixed awe as she reaches through the bars.

You move toward her and let her hand rest gently on your black and blue cheek. "Nothing more than I deserve," You tell her in an all-too honest voice.

"No, no, no. That's not true," She soothes your non-existent self-loathing. "You don't deserve any of this, baby boy." You pass a dry laugh. "Okay, maybe a little." She admits with a side-nod. "But it's all our fault. You didn't start this."

"You didn't either," You lean your head into her hand.

"Oh, but we were young and foolish, me and Austria," She sighs, running her thumb under your eye.

"No: just Austria. You knew better, but couldn't do anything."

"Keep telling yourself that, _kedvesem._ Maybe one day I'll start to believe you, too," Her eyes start to well up and you reach through the bars, but then a loud crash booms behind you.

You turn around quickly, and your eyes widen. Then your headache returns. "Italy," You acknowledge the intrusion into your cell.

"Hello, Captain," He greats you back shyly. He looks like he wants to run to give you a hug, but for once is showing some restraint.

You glance back up to the window to see Hungary is no longer there. She knows better than to stay around for too long.

"How have you been?" You ask in a completely forced manner. You really didn't want to talk to this man anymore.

"I've been better," He answers with a wet throat. "You?"

"The same."

"Not quite." He steps just a little bit closer. "Your face looks a little different," He comments while reaching up to it, but then decides not to even try to touch you. You let out a sigh in relief.

"That happens, you know?"

"Often?" He asks while motioning for you to come sit with him on your bunk.

"Sometimes," You answer vaguely.

He nods in a basic understand you're not completely sure that he is faking or not. You sit down after he does, and sit straight up with the thin frame clenched tightly in your hands. Your whole being is straining in this moment as you sit next to him.

"Germany," He finally speaks again. He looks at you very strangely, and his face contorts a little. Your stomach clenches. "Is this all my fault?"

"No, Italy. Of course it's not," You give him the same answer for the umpteenth time on the subject.

"Comfort me then. Tell me it's all going to be okay," He begs you, finally looking away.

You want to, but stay stiff as you can make yourself. "Italy..."

"No, Germany."

"_Veneciano..._ Are you going to be okay?" You ask using more of your vocals that you'd have wanted to, making your voice sound scratchy and hoarse.

"I'm not going to be in peace for a long time, Germany," A tear leaks down his face. "Not for a long time."

"Oh..."

"But Germany's sad too, isn't he? This isn't how we saw it at the beginning," He sends a watery smile up at you. "Maybe I can be sad for you too then. So you can be strong in here, while you still can be."

"Thank you, Veneciano."

"No problem, Germany. It's no problem at all."

A moment of silence goes by, and then a man in strange armor comes up to the bars. "Veneciano, you can't stay here forever. It's not good for him," Ancient Rome's amber eyes glance over at you, and you lower your eyes from him. Pain rips through your chest.

"Just a moment, _nonno_. Let me say goodbye," The Italian plead while you continued to not hear.

Ancient Rome then turns around. "Okay then." He waves his hand and walks away.

"Will you ever come back?" You ask Veneciano in an almost desperate tone. For someone that grudgingly liked this guy, you sure are attached to him.

"As often as you want me to," He answers sincerely, and then he vanishes, to your dismay. He reappears on the other side of the bars in the hallway. "Come give me goodbye kisses, Ludwig! Come here! Kisses!" He calls you over as he wraps his fingers around the bars. You smile as you stand back up and go over to him.

"You could have asked when you were over here," You tell him as you lean your head against the bars once more.

He gives you a crossed look. "You know I can't," He puffs his cheeks. "You won't let me."

"Ja, ja. Just turn your head already," You tell him as you allow yourself to hold his head in your palms.

He smiles as he lets you kiss his one cheek, then the other through the iron bars. He then reaches for your cheeks, and you turn your head to allow him to put butterfly kisses on your cheeks. A strong breeze blows through the window, his laughter echoes through your ears, and you flinch.

You hate it when your mind plays that part of the game, finally letting yourself crash back to reality. The game is where you pretend you're crazy, letting yourself imagine sounds and sights that weren't actually there. They couldn't possible be. Veneciano Italy had died during the reunification of Italy. You only do this now to hurt yourself, and you seem to be okay with that.

You sigh against the haven of the cool iron bars once more. Maybe you'll be able to get out of here some day.

_*breaks your heart ending*_

* * *

_Oh, jeez, what's up with this angst? Anyway, this is completely and utterly referring to the part of Berlin under Communist control. I__'m not sure if Hungary was real or not, so if that answers anything... *shrug* Have a nice day. :33  
_

_Translations:_

_Guten tag. -Good day._

_kedvesem -my darling_

_nonno -grandfather_


End file.
